Case Number 26017: Small Claims Court

Wake Up and Live (1937)

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All Rise...

Judge P.S. Colbert penned this opinion in top hat and tails.

The Charge

"Your luck changed when you met me, Beetle-puss!"

The Case

Mr. and Mrs. America, from coast to coast, and all ships at sea, let's go to
press:

Extra! Extra! Wake Up And Live is the real Magilla—I'm crappin'
you negative, gals and germs!

This here music-laden, mirth-infested, all-star extravaganza from Fox
pictures puts Walter Winchell (The Untouchables) and Ben
Bernie—two faces made for radio if there ever were—on top of the
marquee and comes up trumps, against all odds.

Winchell, that scandal-sheet scribe with a nose for news and an extremely
nasal delivery, and Bernie, the cigar-chomping, fiddle-sawing big band leader,
are engaged in an all-huff-and-no-puff "showbiz feud" (ala Jack Benny
and Fred Allen) over who will be the first one to expose the mysterious singing
"Phantom," currently enthralling curious listeners all over the
forty-eight states.

While the pair acquit themselves admirably as celebrity squabblers, neither
one promises to be a scene-stealer. Fortunately, the supporting cast is chock
full of 'em, starting with Winch's secretary Patsy (Patsy Kelly, Rosemary's Baby) and his leg man,
Steve Cluskey (Ned Sparks, 42nd
Street). Proving the adage that "there are no small roles, only small
actors," a treasure trove of supporting players wind up making the most of
their limited time on screen, including (but not limited to) "America's
comedy queen" Joan Davis (I Married Joan), who scores big with a
rib-tickling rumba, and a (relatively) baby-faced William Demarest (Uncle
Charley O'Casey on My Three Sons), heisting hefty laughs as a dopey
security guard.

The film's title comes from that best-selling Grandmother of self-help books
by Dorothea Brande. Miss Brande herself doesn't appear, but in terms of a
stand-in, the advice maven (not to mention we in the audience) couldn't do
better than Alice Faye (Alexander's
Ragtime Band), then on the verge of becoming America's singing
sweetheart.

Miss Faye's charge is Eddie Kane (Jack Haley), a former Vaudeville hoofer
and tweeter suffering from "microphone fright," which prevents him
from warbling his way onto the wireless. Haley was still two years away from
establishing himself as a film icon (playing the Tin Man in The Wizard Of Oz) at this point, but
Wake Up And Live actually gives him a bigger and better showcase for his
prodigious talents.

Available through Fox's "Cinema Archives" made-on-demand DVR
program, Wake Up And Live holds up surprisingly well, with minimal wear
and tear showing on this full-frame presentation. There are some snaps and
crackles and on the soundtrack, to be sure, but they add up to a pretty tame
bowl of Corn Pops, sonically speaking.

I tells ya, folks: if you're game for an evening of yocking it up while
rubbing elbows with the Hoi polloi of the big town's premier ballrooms and
supper clubs, just head around back, and knock three times on the big door
without a number on it. When the peephole opens, whisper "Yow-zah,
yow-zah!" to gain admittance.